


A Cold Embrace

by templefugate



Category: Batman (Comics), Civil War II - Fandom, DCU (Comics), Iron Man (Comic), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Drabble, Fix-It, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, One Shot, POV Character of Color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:47:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7424251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templefugate/pseuds/templefugate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Truth be told, Rhodey wasn't sure if he was alive.</p><p>A Civil War II fix-it fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cold Embrace

Truth be told, Rhodey wasn't sure if he was alive. His body was stiff as a piece of wood, the slight movement of air against his skin the only sign that he was moving. Or, rather, being moved.

The fact made his insides go cold, a lead hard ball forming in his stomach and extending through the rest of his insides. It was one thing to go through practice simulations and to train for what might happen if he were captured and another thing to live the experience. Yet where previous training and commands had once been was now nothing but an empty hole in his head. Digging only brought up a single, solitary memory from a few years back when he'd been stationed out of the country. America had been miles away, but an old man had flown halfway across the world to see his recently enlisted granddaughter. Somehow, the three had gotten to chatting, and the woman's grandfather had mentioned that he was a 'Nam vet.

In Rhodey's book, asking someone about their war experiences was wrong, especially out of the blue. It was more intimate than asking what color a person's underwear was-and at least that question didn't often stir up traumatic memories and flashbacks. War stories were given by their owners, not taken by another.

It was his granddaughter who had asked. She was as green as her uniform and had committed a mistake that not even her commanding officer could fix.

Rhodey could still remember the hard look in her grandfather's eyes and the heavy lines that had formed across his already wrinkled face.

"When they captured me," he said, voice level and monotone, "the real war began."

The words echoed through Rhodey's head, as fresh as if he'd heard them only a day ago.

There were more than a few people who wanted to do him in: Hydra, AIM, whatever was left of the Latervian government after he helped America invade it, not to mention just about every super villain to walk on the face of the earth. Whether the beef was personal or not, more people than he could count would love to have a dead Avenger.

The thought gave him no comfort. Death entered his mind, a cold reality that he had flirted with before on the battle field yet never truly faced. It didn't take a genius to figure out something was wrong.

Wherever he was, it was warm. Heat simmered against his skin yet never quite touched him. It was like when he'd held the back of his hands over his grandmother's stove as a young boy, feeling the heat and steam rise up against his skin and yet never burning him. Whoever was holding him was strong. What little else he could feel was something hard against his wrists and ankles, holding him with a rock hard grip.

A few feet ahead, a woman's voice spoke. Her words, Rhodey could tell, were precise, even if they were spoken in a foreign tongue. There were no recognizable words and her accent was impossible to place. Whether this was caused by the fact that his ears felt as though they were filled with cloth or because she was further away than he thought, Rhodey could not tell.

It didn't help him that the world around him was dark. The last thing that he could remember was an explosion, hot and fast, that had gone from orange to a harsh, bright white. The smell of sulfur still hung thick in his nose. Now, it was as if all the light and color around him had been sucked away.

Yes, Rhodey supposed, he probably was dead already. He had seen weirder things happen in the past. None the less, the idea of surviving an explosion as heavy as that was as equally mystifying and strange.

Whatever was going on, be it a hostage situation or some wild cult ritual, it continued. Rhodey was being moved as easily as if he were a sofa. The enemy probably saw him as less than one.

When they stopped, Rhodey felt his stomach twist. He was fully still for a few moments.

Wherever this was, it sure as hell (which he probably was in) wasn't heaven.

"Welcome to DC," the woman's voice spoke. Her voice was clear and loud, almost as if she had spoken directly into his ear.

Whatever this place was, DC it most certainly was not. There was no grind of subways or the honk of traffic, not even the chatter of tourists. Once the woman had finished speaking, the world around him had gone silent.

Even if Rhodey could have opened his mouth to talk to her and rip the blanket of silence apart, he never would have been able to ask for her meaning. Where the hard grip of his captors' hands had once been was instead cold and empty air. His body plummeted like a cement block thrown into a lake, air embracing him on all sides.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was really mad about Civil War II killing Rhodey and Jennifer. Though there's rumors of Jen coming back to life, Rhodey seems like he'll be stuck on the chopping block for a while. This fact is infuriating (#RhodeyLives), so I decided to take matters into my own hands.
> 
> Also, if you couldn't tell, the woman is Talia Al Ghul and the men who held Rhodey are her henchmen. I like to think that she owed some Marvel characters a few favors and got even by throwing Rhodey in a Lazarus pit (AKA the easiest revival method in the DCU). I might make a sequel to this showing Rhodey's reaction to finding out about his death/resurrection and exploring the DCU depending on if I get any good plot bunnies. If so, She-Hulk may or may not tag along.


End file.
